Morning Star
by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: This is how Sam re-enters Dean's life: Dean is surveying the freshly-mown lawn with a sense of vague accomplishment, when there's the sound of wings. Second in the 'Son of the Morning' sequence.


**Title: **Morning Star

**Author:** TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel  
**Spoilers/warnings:** Takes place post 5.22. AU.  
**Summary: **This is how Sam re-enters Dean's life: Dean is surveying the freshly-mown lawn with a sense of vague accomplishment, when there's the sound of wings.

**Author notes: **_Second in the _'Son of the Morning_' sequence. Sequel to _Glowbug_._

* * *

**Morning Star**

* * *

This is how Sam re-enters Dean's life: Dean is surveying the freshly-mown lawn with a sense of vague accomplishment, when there's the sound of wings.

He turns, expecting Cas and ready to curse him out for staying away too long, to see Sam standing there smiling, like the sight of Dean lights up his whole world.

It's like the world stands still.

"_Sam?_" Dean breathes out brokenly.

He knows that this isn't possible, but _God_, it's like some huge aching part of him was torn out and at the sight of Sam he's just gotten it back.

Sam's smile is _wonderful_.

"Hey, Dean."

"_What the hell is this?_" Dean spits out angrily. "What the fuck are you playing at?"

There isn't a weapon anywhere to hand for once, but there's a rake not too far away, leaning up against the wall of the house. If Dean can edge back that far… "Who the hell are you?"

"Dean, it's me," Sam says, wearing his most patient 'you're being dumb' expression, but still smiling a little all the same, like he can't help it.

"Bullshit," Dean snaps, stepping backwards. "My brother's sharing a cell with Lucifer."

Sam sighs, like he always does when he thinks Dean is being stupidly stubborn.

"Dean…"

Dean's hand closes around the rake handle.

In a flash of movement he brings it around and hits the Sam doppelganger with it as hard as he can.

The wooden handle snaps over Sam's head, leaving him looking completely unmoved.

"What the hell –" Dean gapes in consternation.

Sam's lips twitch, and he looks like he's fighting back laughter.

"Dean," he repeats, and yeah he sounds like he's trying not to laugh, "seriously, man, it's _me_. Will you at least stop trying to kill me long enough for me to explain?"

"No," Dean retorts, because the _last_ thing he's going to do is pay that kind of courtesy to something that has the audacity to imitate his brother. _Fuck_ no.

Sam presents him with a face that's finally starting to look annoyed.

"Fine."

He snaps his fingers.

* * *

Dean stumbles back, looking around wildly, trips over a rock and fall backwards.

He hears Sam snort, and glares up at the whatever-it-is. He refuses to think the word _angel_, because there's really only one angel he can think of who would have a reason to look like Sam, and the only reason Dean is still at all sane is the thought that at least that son-of-a-bitch is locked up.

"Where the hell did you bring me?" Dean snarls. "And what the fuck do you want?"

Sam just gives him an irritated, assessing look, which Dean is all too familiar with.

"I want you to listen, that's all, Dean."

And there's bitchface #4, the 'you could at least pretend to listen to what I'm saying, dude' face.

"Look, it's really me, okay? I spent a hundred and twenty years downstairs rooming with Michael and Lucifer, watching the two of them fight until Lucifer almost killed himself trying to get out, which is when he gave me his Grace so that he wouldn't die completely. Then I got yanked out and dumped topside, which is when I came to find you."

Dean stares at him.

"What?"

"Okay. Think for a second. The Cage was built to contain Lucifer, right? It was built specifically, to hold _one_ archangel. That worked just fine. But then we didn't just stick Lucifer back in, we put Michael in there too."

That doesn't sound good, Dean thinks. This sounds like it's leading into something bad.

"The Cage was stretched to its absolute limits keeping both of them in, and even then it didn't have quite enough power. Lucifer started attacking the Cage, trying to pull the walls apart. He didn't quite manage to do it, but he succeeded in activating the Cage defences, and the power rebounded on him and ruptured his Grace."

" 'Ruptured?' " Dean echoes.

Sam shrugs.

"That's the closest word I can think of. It sort of – tore him open, where the, um, basic part of him – I guess you could think of it as the equivalent of the human soul – attached to his Grace. He was dying slowly, with no way to stop it. Then, someone started trying to break into the Cage."

Sam grins faintly.

"He figured that chances were someone might try to get me out, even if they were only planning to break out Michael, so Lucifer gave me his Grace right before I got yanked out. I've spent the last day or so recovering and adjusting to everything, and then I came straight here to find you," Sam finishes.

He waits, watching Dean expectantly.

Dean narrows his eyes.

This all sounds too good to be true. Besides, even if it turns out Sam's telling the truth, he knows his brother well enough to know that there's a hell of a lot Sam's left out of his little story.

"Let's say I believe you," Dean says warily, his tone of voice making it clear that he doesn't believe Sam at all, "why would Lucifer give you his Grace after you spoiled all his plans?"

Sam smiles, bright and luminous.

"An angel's Grace isn't just power, Dean. It's a part of their soul."

_That_ sounds like an ominous line if Dean ever heard one.

"Come again?"

Sam grins, and seats himself on the nearest boulder.

"Angels," he explains, "basically have two interconnected souls. There's the comparatively small part that resembles a human soul. When an angel loses their Grace or rips it out, this is the part of their soul that's left behind. Then there's Grace. An angel's Grace is the source of their power, but it's also…"

Sam frowns thoughtfully, apparently trying to think how best to phrase it.

"Everything they instinctively know about being an angel, their wings, their morality and purpose comes from their Grace. There's other stuff too, but it's pretty much everything that makes them an angel instead of, you know, human. It's kind of hard to explain it."

"So what does that mean?" Dean asks.

Sam gives a serene, almost amused little smile that isn't quite his.

"It means that while I'm still the Sam you know, at the same time I'm also kind of, you know. Lucifer."

* * *

Sam leans back and watches Dean to see how he takes it.

Dean takes a long, slow breath, and lets it out.

"You're Sam."

"That's right."

"And Lucifer."

"Basically, yeah. Except I'm the nicer, newer Lucifer."

Dean breathes deeply and tries to think this through.

His brother is Lucifer.

_Sam_ is _Lucifer_. He's fine, he's unharmed, but he's also the vicious smug son-of-a-bitch who tried to kill Dean, killed a bunch of other people, and tried to bring the apocalypse. If there's one person in the world Dean hates it's freaking Lucifer, but on the other hand this is _Sam_, and there is no way Dean could ever hurt Sammy.

In other words, he's totally screwed.

"_Fuck_," Dean says in summation of the situation.

Sam is looking at him with soft sympathetic eyes, like he hates dumping this on his brother. Dean glares at him.

"What now?" Dean demands. "You going to start Apocalypse version 2.0?"

Sam snorts.

"Yeah, Dean, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Destroy the whole world while you and everyone else I care about is in it."

"That's not exactly a no, Sam," Dean points out carefully.

Sam sends him a look that's a combination of the bitchface and Lucifer's deadly glare.

Shit. That face is actually _frightening_.

Dean makes a mental note to remember that this new version of his brother is actually an archangel, and maybe Dean should be a little more careful about how far he pushes him from now on. Just in case.

"_No_," Sam enunciates, with emphasis. "I'm not going to start the apocalypse. Again," he adds as an afterthought, mouth twisting a little wryly.

Dean sighs, and finally allows himself to relax.

"Dammit," he says, and then, "Sam, come here."

Sam pushes himself to his feet and approaches Dean, looking hopeful.

Dean pulls him into a tight hug, because damn if he didn't miss his little brother.

Sam hugs back instantly, and it's kind of like being hugged like a tree, as usual, or a sasquatch; Dean's wrapped up by a pair of huge arms and held, like a small person. Dean would never in a million years admit it to Sam, but Sam's giant hugs are always really comforting.

For a moment they just stand there like that, Dean breathing in his brother's scent, revelling in the familiar feel of him, while Sam stands solid and reassuringly real.

Dean moves to stand back and Sam instantly lets go, and it occurs to Dean that hey, his brother's an angel now, with an angel's strength, and if Sam wasn't willing to let go then Dean would have no hope of escaping his hold.

That _should_ be a scary thought, but Dean finds it weirdly soothing. Sam would never hurt him, and it's nice to know that his brother is practically invulnerable now.

Dean blinks as he restores the space between them.

"Dude. You're _glowing_."

Sam is radiant, shining with bright, pure light, a palpable aura of goodness and kindness around him, and _wow_, Dean can't find the words.

Sam smiles, a little sheepishly.

"Yeah, I lose control of that sometimes. Lightbringer, remember?"

The light dulls and fades, and Dean kind of regrets the loss.

"Anyway, what've you been up to in the last year?" Sam asks, his eyes bright and curious.

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Well maybe if you took us back to the house, I could introduce you properly to Lisa and Ben, and then I could tell you all about it over a beer."

Sam's smile is blinding again, even though he's not _actually_ shining any more, and he snaps his fingers to take them back to Lisa's place.


End file.
